Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

The rain only worsened as Lieze and Drayya made their way across the city. An atmosphere of anticipation thickened in the air as servants of the Church wandered the streets with keen eyes, flooding the air with the bitter scent of their censers. Nonhuman businesses were either packing up shop to move elsewhere or suffering the harassment of the Church while stubbornly refusing to relocate. It was a natural step in Alistair’s reestablishment of the country’s traditional values - the excising of those with impure blood.

Baccharum’s subterranean hideout in the eastern district continued to operate unnoticed by the authorities, and had in fact redoubled its efforts to spread influence across Tonberg in the wake of Helmach - and the Acolytes’ - defeat. Thugs wrapped with bandannas patrolled the destroyed ward as if to celebrate their defiance of the new rule. Suspicious glances were cast towards Lieze and Drayya as they approached the inconspicuous cellar leading to the gang’s headquarters.

“What do you suppose he has to say?” Lieze wondered.

“Nothing pleasant, I’d wager.” Drayya replied, “His hands must be full with the Church cracking down on criminals harder than ever before. I’m expecting to hear a proposition of some sort.”

“Let’s not waste any time, then.”

The lack of guards watching the cellar door from beneath spoke of just how sparsely Baccharum’s forces had been spread. Lieze had the forward thinking to send Drayya down first, knowing she’d probably be run through with a sword on account of her magically-altered appearance. Once it was established that she wasn’t in any danger, she slid her way down the ladder into the candle-lit darkness of the modified cellar, yanking the hatch back with a grunt behind her.

“Ah, it’s only you two…” Poised to fend off a pair of confident invaders, a lone fellow standing guard in the antechamber released his grip on the hilt poking out from his waist, “Rummy’s downstairs.”

“I can’t help but notice the distinct lack of any guards down here.” Lieze replied, “Considering the Church’s stance against nonhumans, isn’t Baccharum putting himself at risk?”

“Whether he is or not, d’you really think I’m about to tell him he’s wrong?” The guard shrugged his shoulders, “I’m only here to get paid, hen.”

It was almost relieving to hear such shameless honesty. Lieze found herself wishing that she had as many servants willing to do anything she asked for gold. Without another word spoken between them, Lieze and Drayya wandered over to the wooden door leading down to Baccharum’s sanctum. An unpleasant chill ran down Lieze’s spine as she opened the door only to be greeted by an unnatural darkness.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” She turned towards Drayya.

“I know what you’re about to say - and yes, I know now to watch my step on the way down.” She replied, “Elves and their darkness… I wonder how many times he’s stepped out of that room in the past year?”

Tentatively, Lieze began to descend the staircase. The muffled rapping of raindrops against the surface faded into the distant light as her vision faded away. The embrace of Baccharum’s private room was almost comforting - so far away from the worries and horrors of the material world. With a pinch of luck, the two necromancers found their way to the bottom of the stairwell without tripping over their own feet or missing a step. The low hum of a strange instrument - the light-devouring artefact Lieze had spotted on her first visit to the hideout - was all that enlightened them to a presence within the tiny office. Somewhere in front, the repulsive snapping of limbs far too long to be human precluded Baccharum’s blood-curdling voice.

“Lieze Sokalar and Margoh Drayya.” He said, “I’ve spoken to you each on separate occasions, but this is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of doing business with both of you at once.”

“I’m not interested in exchanging greetings.” Lieze replied, cutting straight to the chase, “You called us here for a reason, in the middle of this crisis which threatens both of our futures. It doesn’t take a Sage to know you have some kind of offer for us.”

“Ah… I do so miss the cutthroat caste of Elven high society. Your no-nonsense disposition reminds me of simpler times, Lieze. Humans have a terrible habit of demanding pleasantries before they will lower themselves to conducting business.” Baccharum reminisced, “If you would be so kind as to allow me to place such expectations aside for a moment - yes, I do have an offer for you and your companion.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Lieze crossed her arms.

“Well - for starters, Miss Drayya has informed me that you were successful in disposing of Helmach. Naturally, his absence has caused the Acolytes of Reunification a great deal of worry, and most of them have taken to abandoning the fold in favour of rejoining the Church of the Golden Dragon’s ranks.”

“Wait-” Drayya interrupted, “That’s not possible. Aren’t the Acolytes made up of those who were excommunicated from the faith? They don’t have the freedom of rejoining.”

“Perhaps not recently, no.” Baccharum shifted in the darkness, readjusting his hunched posture, “-But due to recent events that I’m sure you’re all-too-familiar with, the Church has reclaimed much of the influence it lost during Ricta’s rule. With no king to leash his zealousness, Alistair is keen to reinforce the city’s standing army with as many able men as he possibly can.”

“Alistair doesn’t have the authority to do that.” Lieze folded her arms, “The Dragon Priest is the only authority the Church answers to. Whether he’s on the throne or not, Alistair shouldn’t be able to demand what he pleases from the faith.”

“Come now, Lieze.” Baccharum replied, “The Dragon Priest serves a purely ceremonial role. His duties involve the overseeing of divine punishment and helping himself to as much of the city’s ale as his failing liver will allow. Frankly, his position has been a boon to entrepreneurial businessmen such as myself. Up until now, that is.”

From the suffocating darkness ahead of her, Lieze could somehow tell that Baccharum’s gaze was lingering on her. He was a man who had spent more years in the criminal underworld than she had spent alive - everything he said had a purpose. She parsed his strategy for that encounter in an instant - he intended to blame Lieze for Alistair’s rise to power and use that to leverage her guilt for his own means. But she wasn’t about to be outdone by simple manipulation.

“Get to the point.” She demanded, “Your influence is spreading without the Acolytes. I already know that. But it won’t be long before the Church begins to seek out criminals like you with more fervour than ever before. And once they discover that you’re an Elf, of all things, they’ll send you to hang without a trial.”

“You understand my plight, then. This city is no longer a haven for we poorly creatures of such ill-seeded blood.” He replied, “My proposition is thus: aid my organisation in reinforcing its influence throughout the city, and we will ensure that efforts to discover and eradicate your cult are… halted for the foreseeable future.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” Lieze accused.

“-And neither can you guarantee that the Church won’t unearth you before you’re prepared to repel them. It would be quite the shame if all the effort you’ve put in was to be dismantled in a single day, wouldn’t it?”

A flash of rage overcame Lieze. From beneath Baccharum’s forked tongue, a threat had emerged. He had the audacity to levy betrayal against her with the full knowledge that he would be dooming both parties in the process. She needed to bite back against his confidence or risk losing the reputation she’d managed to cultivate during her time in Tonberg.

“You’re trying to tell me I have no choice in the matter.” She summarised.

“Lieze, let me tell you one thing - I don’t consider the thieves’ creed of withholding one’s true intentions to be an honourable set of ideals.” Baccharum replied, “If I have to turn against an ally in order to get what I want, that ally will always be the first to hear about it. I’ve lived too long and bloody a life to busy myself with technicalities.”

“I appreciate the candour. But allow me to summarise the grounds upon which you demand my services.” Lieze began, “Tonberg - the only standing city of humankind, is readying itself to deport any and all nonhuman citizens. A forward-thinking businessman like yourself would absolutely take this chance to pack up and leave as quickly as possible, wouldn’t you agree?”

Baccharum remained silent. She took that to mean he already understood where she was headed with the argument.

“-But the truth is that you can’t escape.” She continued, “Akzhem has exiled you. The Dwarven Mountaintops would not welcome an Elf. You cannot escape to another city because they’re all teeming with undead, and you cannot travel south because you would be butting heads with the Order. You and your gang are isolated here. This is the only place where you have a chance of success - and that chance exists only for as long as I live.”

She was already accustomed to living in the shadow of Tonberg. Success wouldn’t come easily. She needed to exploit every opportunity and identify every weakness. Passiveness in the face of adversity would only have her so-called ‘allies’ using her as a doormat. But her solidarity and standoffishness lent her the impression of inexperience, allowing her to strike true whenever a gap appeared in the defences of her peers.

Baccharum remained silent. The room’s darkness made it impossible to gauge his reaction, but rarely was the Elf so inflicted with thought. Lieze remained utterly confident in her accusation. Not one lie had slithered into her cruel deconstruction of Baccharum’s situation. Everything she said had been the complete truth.

“...What a farce this all is.” He sighed, “I cannot deny your words on any stable ground. If Alistair is allowed to consolidate power, any efforts made to expand beyond the eastern district will be met with terrible resistance. As the rope constricts around our necks, my most trusted men will be tempted to leak the secret of my identity to the Church, and then the entire weight of the city shall come crashing down upon this humble cellar.”

“You’re trapped. Physically and strategically.” Lieze summarised, “-You want to make it seem like I owe you for inadvertently ascending Alistair to the throne, but the truth is that I’ve managed to box you in. It was a fine effort - I would have scrambled for superiority in much the same way. But there can be no escaping the fate arranged for you.”

“Yes, yes - you’ve bested me.” Even when backed into a corner, Baccharum’s tone carried no semblance of cowardice, “-But I know this hasn’t damaged our relationship. You’re in no state to be tackling the city at your current strength, so preserving my influence is in your best interest.”

“-So the only reason you tried to claim superiority was because it was worth a try?”

“When you’ve seen as many nobles violently deposed as I have, you start to develop a sixth sense for what you can and cannot get away with.” He explained, “But yes - I did it because it was worth a try.”

He was a sly man, as Elves were known to be. Lieze couldn’t entertain the possibility of leaving him to wither away as Alistair’s power grew when he could be put to use as a convenient tool for furthering her own goals.

“I’ll guarantee your independence.” Lieze vowed, “-But I won’t do it for free.”

“Naturally.” Baccharum’s fingers scraped across his hardwood desk, “So long as we’re allowed to retain our position in the eastern district, I’ll do everything in my power to aid you. And, I hope it goes without saying that if the Order does happen to conquer Tonberg, my life won’t be forfeit?”

“Of course.” Lieze tried to sound as confident about that statement as possible, “And, just to ease your mind, it isn’t a matter of if, but when.”